When Angels Fall
by snarksadoodle
Summary: In all fairness, most angels the Winchester brothers came in contact with were unprecedented grade-A douchebags with little care for the humans of Earth unless they involved their petty rivalries. Suffice to say, when the hunters' radar picked up on an angel presence gone rogue somewhere in Kansas, routine justified that they investigate. [ one-shot ]


In all fairness, most angels the Winchester brothers came in contact with were unprecedented grade-A douchebags with little care for the humans of Earth unless they involved their petty rivalries. Suffice to say, when the hunters' radar picked up on an angel presence gone rogue somewhere in Kansas, routine justified that they investigate.

Demons, as a rule of thumb, we're always assumed to have the worst of intentions. Those who actually helped the Winchesters were far and few in between. So with the ratio the way it was, the likelihood of the demon sighting that picked up around the same time as the angel dictated that it wouldn't be friendly as one would hope.

Following protocol, Team Free Will disembarked the well kept '67 Impala, their faces grim and sour as they stocked their hands up with the proper weapons; Dean with one of the bunker's various guns and Ruby's knife concealed in his jacket, Sam with stored Latin incantations and a gun of choice, and Castiel with his favored angel blade hiding up his sleeve.

The vehicle doors slammed shut - three different echoes bouncing off the walls of the abandoned construction site the sightings had led them to.

"Wouldn't even bother trying to exorcise the demon when we run into them," Dean advised, talking more to Sam than anyone else as he took the lead through the darkening collection of stone walls, scraps of metal and frequent amounts of rebar. "Quicker to kill and if it's in cohorts with the angels…"

"I get it, I get it," Sam quipped, voice clipped and short.

Swept up in silence, the shadows forced the pull of another light source. It was when all three were inside the site completely before the brothers whipped out their flashlights, quickly scanning their immediate area for signs of disturbance or possible ambush. Finding nothing with their first scan, they all advanced with the flashlights illuminating their path forward.

"There's too much ground to cover," Castiel spoke in his low gravelly voice, nearly startling the brothers as he spoke after a long lapse of silence. "We should split up. I will take the right side."

Before any arguments or protests could be manifested from the angel's comment, there was a windy flap of wings and the trench coated creature disappeared within a second.

"Yeah, sure, Cas," Dean grumbled, nodding to Sam to follow him down the left channel of construction. "Don't leave any chance for response. Just leave with a flap of those damn wings."

The temperature of their area drops but a quick check of their breath proves no ghost activity. At the very least, it leaves their hands less tied when dealing with both and angel and a demon. For this time of evening, Kansas weather just happened to be noticeably cold. From somewhere further up above and to the left, the continuous drip drop of water signified a leak. The falling water formed a little puddle at the bottom before it seeped into the gravel with a gradual slowness. No wonder this place had been abandoned.

With nothing suspicious on the ground floor, Dean opted to take a set of stairs leading to a higher platform while Sam maneuvered a different path and found that one of the button push elevators still functioned enough to grant passage up to the other floors.

Now with all three separated physically, their former 'safety in numbers' plan surely bordered on failing. It also increased the chance of something picking them off one by one.

A kick to one of the more recently framed doors brought the slab of wood crashing down with a booming noise. Dean hopped over the board and into one of the rooms in process of construction before it was indefinitely delayed.

"Winchester number one," a sultry croon called from the doorway the hunter had just walked through.

Whirling around, the eldest trained his pistol on the source, coming face to face with a tall buxom woman with glittering black eyes.

"You shoot me, you kill this poor woman," the demon began, observing the fierceness associated with the hunter as he contemplated shooting the abomination straight up.

"What's all this then?" the sandy-haired prompted, gun still aimed at the demon's vessel.

"You Winchesters have been a nothing but a thorn in our sides. At this point, it'd be better if both of you were dead." The demon stated plainly, twirling her fingers in her long wavy locks of some dark hue that was undefined in the limited light.

"Sorry to burst your bubble sweetheart," Dean lilted, a charismatic grin on his face, firing his weapon and relishing in the way the demon buckled where he shot twice at the knees. "But us Winchesters don't die easy."

He only had a second or two to gloat before some brutish force crashed into his back and fought to drag the hunter to the ground. Another shot left the chamber as he was tackled and struggled to throw off his assailant. As Dean rolled around on the floor, struggling to get the upper hand in the one-sided fight, he half expected his ambusher to be the angel in cohorts with the demon who coincidentally left their vessel after being physically useless from the legs down. A vessel unable to move proved to be useless to something as simple minded as a demon of Hell.

The creature had the audacity to hiss once it was thrown clear off Dean's back. The feral look in its normal looking blue eyes seemed more demonic than angelic but when working with the supernatural, you saw everything west of weird and south of screwy.

The undefined creature lunged, knocking aside the firing weapon and sent it sailing across the room. It climbed over onto the hunter's back once more, avoiding any chance of getting stabbed with the knife that Dean was unable to remove from his jacket whilst fighting both handed.

"Dean!" a new voice echoed, rewarding everyone in the room with the sight of a very surprised and marginally furious Sam Winchester. His own pistol was raised but the thrashing of his older brother and the demon or angel left him with little option. He couldn't shoot and accidentally kill his brother with a careless bullet to the head. It was unreliable.

His only choice.

 _"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversii."_

To the sibling's relief, the creature - now identified as a demon - keeled over and began furiously yelling in pain, releasing its hold on Dean.

 _"Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo, draco maledicte ecclesiam tuam, secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus._

The demon tried to reach Sam with flailing arms before the final section was uttered in order to send it out of its vessel.

 _"Audi nos!"_

Screaming, the gust of black smoke exited the thoroughly beaten figure of a man in his late thirties. The man, though breathing, did not rise. Most likely unconscious.

"Wouldn't even bother trying to exorcise the demon when we run into them," Sam mocked in his prissy voice version of Dean, helping his brother to his feet. "You were right Dean, it was so much quicker to kill it with the knife that you couldn't get to."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up bitch," Dean instantly snapped, half-hearted with their common banter and followed with a casual roll of his dark green eyes.

"Jerk," Sam answered back in turn, grinning smugly.

"Guess we got the demon problem sated," the sandy-haired began, starting the trek out of the room, leaving both bodies - alive, but seriously injured no doubt. "Now we just gotta find that angel unless Cas already found him."

As soon as they stepped out into the patch of better lighting, a sudden wail brought their humor to a swift end.

The yell was not of triumph or glory - it was wrought with pain and agony and familiarity. Looking up where the noise originated, Sam and Dean caught the sight of blinding blue-white light, flashing brilliantly two stories up. They raced against the metal floor holding them up, eager to get a closer view with their hearts pumping at a much quicker rate now infected with adrenaline pulsing through their veins.

A flash of beige flew out of the corner of their eyes, accompanied with the hollow sound of a deep and heavy thud of something or _someone_ hitting the pavement.

The Winchesters bolted to the railing, horror brimming in their minds as they leaned over to confirm their worst fears.

Magnificent black wings scorched into the variously cracked concrete flooring, huge omnipotent fans of stark dark color that spread from one seemingly small source lying flat on his back from the impact. His ruddy coat rumpled, stained with dirt accumulated over the months. Black pants seemingly undisturbed aside from the wrinkles formed by the fall. He almost seemed peaceful by the serene way he laid there, immobile. He appeared to be subject to sleep's hold except for the steady stream of crimson leaking from a severe wound on the back of his head and forming a grotesque puddle.

No one could verbally express the rawness of the emotions that flooded their minds as they observed. The scene seemed something akin to horror film - something out of a deafening nightmare. Both were vaguely aware of an object shattering - their hearts most likely. Flushed with pain and fear, pure emotion flooded veins much like a river would breaking down a dam and spilling with rage into the fragile valley. All of the agony and misery pierced through the veil of hope, tearing the sheet into shredded pieces unable to be sewn back together again. Intense, fiery heat burned their empty chests where their hearts once were. Blood boiled long and hard enough to set fire to anything worth touching. All of their love, all of their adoration… no longer was it warm with crackling firepit joy. Cold it was, icy to the touch, paralyzingly corrupted with the sudden change of feelings. A seed of darkness settled itself deep in their stomachs, permanently rooted to their cores and the new source of all of the corruption inside of themselves.

Fear, agony, misery, pain, love, pride, promise, devotion, pain, remorse, rage…

All of it swept up into one word:

 _"Cas!"_

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Kind of didn't mean to write this. I mean, I drew some art on my deviant account and I figured I could account my mediocre writing skills and create an accompaniment. This was the result._

 _Yeah... angst. I was listening to dark music yesterday. oops._

 _\- snarky_


End file.
